VOL. I.-No. 21.]

ADVERTISING.

The science, or art, (which is it?) of advertising is yet in its infancy;-books, blacking, horses, housemaids, shawls, cauls, and estates, are made known by means of the columns of newspapers, or the covers of magazines, and some of them, in a way which is more complimentary to the thing advertised, than to the understandings of those to whom the advertisement is addressed, and this is called puffing,-a very coarse term, and manifestly designed to reprove those who think rather too highly of their own productions. Alas! we live in a censorious world, and there is no knowing how to escape censure. Yet, notwithstanding all the fuss and sneering about advertising and puffing, I confess that the science seems to me yet in its infancy, for much that might be advertised is not, and much that is advertised, is, owing to a false delicacy, not spoken of in terms laudatory enough. I will grant, indeed, that the merits of Warren's blacking are duly set forth, and that Day and Martin, with all their anxiety to prevent imposition, do not speak less warmly than they feel, in praise of their sable liquid. They do not wait for reviewers to pronounce an opinion, but they give their own, and heartily speak out. Now, authors and publishers are more modest: they do not give their own recommendation, but they wait the word from the critics; or if they do communicate their own opinions to the world, it is not in their own persons, or as their own opinions-they buy the trumpet, and pay the man who blows it; but why should they be thus seemingly modest? Why should they not directly and plainly, in their own persons, tell the public what a pleasant and profitable book they have respectively written and published? If I have an estate to sell, and if I commission an auctioneer to sell it for me, the advertisement appears in the papers, and makes no bones of saying all manner of fine things in favor of the said estate-it is not submitted to critics, but it is plainly and boldly advertised, as possessing every possible advantage: in a 'word, it is praised as much as it will possibly bear. [No. 6. NEW SERIES.]

[PRICE ONE PENNY.

Why should not books be served in the same way? Why should sly little lurking paragraphs be insidiously thrust into the newspapers, masking self-praise in a way that a blacking man would scorn to do? When Robert Warren tells you the story of the cat and the boot, he directs you in the same paragraph to the house where the wonderful liquid is to be bought. There is no impudence so beautiful as bare faced impudence-I hate the covering of the face with a fan and peeping through the sticks: I abhor the jesuitical alternate shutters at a pastry-cook's shop on a Sunday. I dislike any indi rectness where the direct meaning is obvious. No-if books are to be advertised, let them be advertised with all appliances and means to boot. If a book is to be bought, it must be known, and if its title is to be known, its contents ought also to be known, and its beauties. And who knows these so well as the author? By all means, then, let the author, or the publisher, instructed by the author, set forth in the form of an advertisement, the sundry beauties and sublimities of the work; let them not mince the matter, but, with as little ceremony as a draper advertises his shop as the cheapest in London, let an author advertise his book as the first and finest production of the day. Furthermore, not only are books imperfectly advertised, but they are also not nearly so extensively advertised as blacking and quacking. What have the brick walls done, that they should not have their share of book advertisements? Matchless Hunt and Dr. Eady have found "chalking the walls" answer very well. Moreover, I have seen peripatetics, who bear long poles announcing cheap cook-shops; and when I have come out of Mr. Colburn's, sorrowful at the tidings that my last novel did not sell, I have wished to see it recommended to public notice, after the fashion of the pole and the placard: and if at any future time Dr. Eady shall find his name rubbed out, and the title of my new novel put in its place, he may guess who did it. By the way, now I think of it, was it not formerly the practice for Lottery Office keepers to placard the outside of errand carts with lottery puffs? What convenient things the omnibusses would be for the same purpose; not for advertising lotteries, but for advertising books. I have heard many

complaints lately of the book trade, that books do not sell as they used to do. There cannot be any other cause for this langour, than the want of advertisements.

REVIEW OF BOOKS.

G. Odell.

can imagine the following dialogue between a publisher

and an author.

Author.-You have looked over my MS.?

Publisher. I have; and really, as the market now stands, it would be more to my advantage to sell the books that I have printed, than to purchase any more MSS. Novels do not sell as they used to do.

Author.-Perhaps I had better try some other line. Publisher. Perhaps you had;-what subjects can you write upon?

Author.-Any,-nothing comes amiss.

Publisher.-Can you write upon brick walls?
Author.-Certainly.

Publisher. Then take this piece of chalk, and go and write on them the names of my new novels, and you will immediately rise in literary dignity; for, instead of being paid a penny a line, you shall be paid a penny a word.

But, while some things are advertised imperfectly, others are not advertised at all. How many a talented youth at the bar is in want of a brief because he is not advertised. Surely it is a false delicacy, and altogether a piece of mock modesty, that a barrister, of all people in the world, should affect to have any hesitation about advertising himself. Only imagine, for a moment, in how many interesting and attractive forms a barrister might set forth his profession and capabilities! For example :

"IMPORTANT TO HOUSEBREAKERS, PICKPOCKETS, AND ROGUES IN GENERAL.-Jeremiah Snooks, barrister-at-law, Pump Court, begs to inform his friends and the public in general, that he undertakes, at the Old Bailey, the defence of gentlemen accused of any violation of the laws; that he has a peculiarly happy knack of confusing witnesses by his mode of cross-examining; that he has already saved two housebreakers from the gallows, seventeen thieves from transportation, and sundry other gentlemen from minor punishments. J.S. flatters himself that if all the defences of the accused were committed to him, there would be no convictions at all, and the hangman must starve for want of a job. All law work done on the lowest terms, and in the neatest manner, for ready money only."

What an addition would be presently made to the funds of newspapers,-and what a general stimulus would be given to business of all kinds, if the practice of advertising were carried to the extent to which it might be, and how very interesting the papers would become! The letters sent to the proprietors of patent medicines, acknowledging miraculous cures, are entertaining, and bring grist to the mill: equally agreeable to the general reader, and profitable to the legal practitioner, would be the following:

The

"Dear Sir,-I beg leave to acknowledge, with the most heartfelt gratitude, your great skill and dexterity in saving my neck from the gallows, last session. evidence against me was as clear as daylight, and I had not a leg to stand on; but the clever style in which you bothered the witnesses, and made them contradict themselves and one another, demands my warmest thanks. To the last hour of my life I shall never forget it; and you may be assured, that, if I am ever caught again, I shall not think of having recourse to any other professional assistance than yours. now pick pockets and break into houses with the greatest confidence.-I am, sir, your much obliged humble servant, "RALPH HEMPSEED. "To Jeremiah Snooks, Esq., Barrister-at-law. "N.B.-The above has been sworn to before the Lord Mayor."

I can

AN OBEDIENT HUSBAND," Hold your tongue for a fool," said an amiable lady to her lord one evening, in a little family party. "I am silent," he replied, "as your ladyship is about to speak,"

It would appear from the preface, that this little work was first published about thirty years ago, and that it has been out of print for. some time past. We are glad to see a third edition of it now issued to the public, who will derive considerable benefit from a perusal of its contents.

The Science of Rhetoric is here carefully explained, and rendered easy of compre hension; and that, with very little effort on the part of the reader, who, if his intellect be only tolerably bright, may speedily become a proficient. The definitions, illustrations, and examples, are concise but clear; and written with much simplicity apart from affectation.

THE THEATRES.

"See that the Players be well used."-Hamlet. "Nothing extenuate, nor set down aught in malice." Othello.

Haymarket. The announcement of

Mr. PHELPS in the character of Othello, drew a tolerable house; but we are sorry to say that, considered as a whole, the performance was a All, or at least the greater complete failure. part of, the favorite passages, were given with a new and ridiculous reading, and the actor was, in several instances, imperfect. His voice, too,

was under little or no control; and he ranted so as to split the very ears of the groundlings. We must admit, however, that he labored under very considerable disadvantages. Miss ALLISON was the Desdemona! and she played the character like a whining young lady fresh from a boarding school. Iago was sustained by Mr. ELTON, who did little beyond repeating the words that were set down for him. The intellectual villany, necessary to complete the character as Shakspeare drew it, was altogether wanting, and we saw only Mr. ELTON. Cassio, too, was sadly burlesqued by VINING, who plays nearly every character alike. We could not help smiling, when Othello, addressing him, said "Cassio! I love thee, but never more be officer of mine." Love for such an animal could never, surely, have entered the breast of the real Othello. Of the other performers, HAINES, GOUGH, &c. &c., little need be said. They knew the words they had to utter, and this was all they cared for. The Emilia of Miss HUDDART was, however, spirited and effective; and afforded much relief to the general cast.

On Saturday was produced, for the first time, a new drama from the pen of Mr. SERLE, entitled the Queen of the Beggars; of which we need observe little more than that it is a very pitiful and trashy affair; full of improbabilities, and inconsistencies, throughout. The principal characters are Miss HUDDART, the Queen of the Beggars; and ELTON, as Rowland Ormsby, an outcast, who has made a great impression on the

Queen's heart.

The former character was quite unsuited to Miss HUDDART's capabilities, her monotonous and inharmonious voice destroying all interest in her fate. ELTON did his best to be pathetic; and mustered energy enough in the last scene, to render himself hoarse by bawling. He fought, too, much more valiantly for his Queen than WE should have done, under similar circumstances. They were well matched.

STRICKLAND, WEBSTER, and BUCKSTONE were thrust into characters altogether out of their line, they were, consequently, failures. The best part in the piece was entrusted to HAINES, who, as Hogson, the cut-throat, created quite a sensation. He both dressed and looked the part to a nicety, and nearly frightened Miss HUDDART into fits at the sight of his knife, to which himself eventually became a victim. Some red and blue fires were introduced towards

the close, but even these failed to quiet the audience. Hisses were showered down pretty liberally, and could hardly be drowned by the applause of the "orders," which were numerously bestowed all over the house. The drama (!) must be very short-lived; we have, therefore, not wasted room in detailing the "plot," which is truly ridiculous. The only amusing thing connected with the performance of this heavy affair, was the improvisation of the orchestra, between the acts. These gentlemen each chose a tune for themselves, and fairly ran a race with each other, to see which could get done first. The dyspeptic wheezings of the flutes were agreeably enlivened by the insane ravings of the violincellos,—the violins, meantime, disporting themselves with ad libitum screechings. The ensemble was a treat rarely to be met with elsewhere.

POWER has been delighting crowded audiences, since our last. His genuine humor is irresistible.

His new Comedy of Etiquette, or, a Wife for a Blunder, we shall notice in our next; we need hardly say it was well received by an overflowing house.

the Spitfire to chase the enemy. A sea-fight and its usual stage concomitants, blue fire, squibs, crackers, and watchmen's rattles, sncceed with considerable effect. The tobacconist throws himself flat on the deck in an agony of fear; the captain is rescued, the French defeated, a reconciliation takes place between the ward and guardian, who is given in marriage to Seaworth, and all ends pleasantly enough.

The actors exerted themselves to the utmost to give effect to these incidents; and the piece was triumphantly successful.

New Strand.-An announcement of the performance of a young lady-her first appearance on any stage-attracted us again to visit this favorite little theatre, on Monday last. The first piece was Sam Weller, or the Pickwickians; which, though its 61st representation, had drawn so crowded a house that, by seven o'clock, not a seat was vacant. We have so often descanted on the merits of the various performers in this laughable affair, that we need them perfect, but enabled them to introduce only say now, that practice has not only made many improvements. Miss DALY looks as charming as ever. has no taste in dressing. She does not know She is a beautiful girl, but what becomes her best. Had WE the pleasure of her acquaintance, we should certainly enMrs. HAMMOND'S lighten her on this matter. character of Isabella Wardle, was, on this occasion, cleverly sustained by a Miss GORDON, an agreeable and unaffected young lady, who intle friend Miss PETTIFER, improves vastly; fused much spirit into the part. Our litshe grows both pretty and animated. Keeping company with Sam Weller has done her a world of good. Miss HAMILTON, too, evinces her usual flow of good spirits, and joins merrily in

the dance. GOLDSMID'S Old Weller is not des

titute of humor, but it is sadly overdone. HALL'S delineation of the character was the result of genius,-GOLDSMID's is a mere imitation of HALL, without his excellencies,-the

public. Of the new burletta, produced after the above, entitled the Blind Father; or the Peasant Marchioness, we shall only say that it was a signal failure, possessing no redeeming point, save some very pretty scenery by Mr. Dearlove. It was made the vehicle for introducing a young lady new to the stage; who, were she less affected, would be passable enough as a waiting-maid, but can never hope to achieve anything very great. In form, she bears a striking resemblance to an hour-glass filled with milk and water; of which the component parts are-two of water and one of milk. She has a pretty foot and a pretty ankle; but she spoilt both, by letting us see that she was aware of it. The piece was well cast as to names-Miss DALY,

VOL. I.-No. 22.]

THE HORRORS OF AUTHORSHIP.

a

Our own opinion on the subject of Authorship, and the villanous practices of even the most respectable of the London Publishers towards authors, has been so often expressed in the pages of the IDLER, that we gladly insert the opinions of the late Charles LAMB, on similar subject; they are gleaned from the collection of his Works, recently published. Forcible, however, as they are, they very inadequately convey even an idea of an Author's miseries. Talking of his "Specimens of English Dramatic Poets, contemporary with Shakspeare," LAMB

[PRICE ONE PENNY.

Tartars when they have poor authors at their beck. Hitherto you have been at arm's length from them. Come not within their grasp. I have known many authors want for bread, some repining, others enjoying the blessed security of a spunging house; all agreeing they had rather have been tailors, weavers-what not? rather than the things they were. I have known some starved, some to go mad; one dear friend literally dying in a workhouse. You know not what a rapacious set these booksellers are. Ask even Southey, who (a single case almost) has made a fortune by book-drudgery, O, you know not-may you. what he has found them. never know-the miseries of subsisting by authorship! 'Tis a pretty appendage to a situation like your's or mine; but a slavery, worse than all slavery, to be a bookseller's dependant, to drudge your brains for pots of ale, and breasts of mutton, to change your free thoughts and voluntary numbers for ungracious task

I

work. The booksellers hate us. The reason I take to be, that, contrary to other trades, in which the master gets all the credit (a jeweller or silversmith, for instance), and the journeyman, who really does the fine work, is in the back ground: in our work, the world gives all the credit to us, whom they consider as their journeymen; and therefore do they hate us, and cheat us, and oppress us, and would wring the blood of us out, to put another sixpence in their mechanic pouches! ** Keep to your bank, and the bank will keep to you.. Trust not to the public; you may hang, starve, drown yourself, for any thing that worthy personage cares. bless every star, that Providence, not seeing good to make me independent, has seen it next good to settle me upon the stable foundation of Leadenhall. down, good B. B., in the banking office; what! is there not from six to eleven P.M. six days in the week, and is there not all Sunday? Fie, what a superfluity of man's time, if you could think so! Enough for relaxation, mirth, converse, poetry, good thoughts, quiet thoughts. O, the corroding, torturing, tormenting thoughts, that disturb the brain of the unlucky wight who must draw upon it for daily sustenance! Henceforth I retract all my fond complaints of mercantiles employment; look upon them as lovers's quarrels. I

Sit